The Body in the Shed
by GreatDarkNoodleKing
Summary: Based entirely off the Holocaust.. : Pitch Black is living in this horrid time of war and death as normally as he can, when one morning he finds a young refugee hiding away in his shed. Near death, Pitch tries to take him in. But the boy says he has a sister who's still at the camp he escaped from. Question is... Is she still alive in there...? (I've named Jack's sister EMMA) -M-
1. Chapter 1

_**The Body in the Shed**_

**Misleading title, perhaps. But this story is based off the second world war and the atrocities of the Holocaust. If you are one of the few who believe it did not occur, then I strongly recommend you leave this story immediately. This is rated where it is because of abuse, death, torture, mentions of rape and sexual assault, mental trauma, and references, innuendos, or similarities to historical tragedies. So unfortunately for all those looking for it, this story does not contain any scenes of smut or lemons as they are often known.**

**If you are sensitive to topics like these, I suggest you stop reading at this point.**

**If you've ignored me and become offended, then it's on you. Sorry, but I did warn you.**

_**The Body in the Shed**_

The sky was grey and the air was cold, just like any other day. The war raged on, as it had for months- bombs being reported having destroyed entire villages in enemy territories, deaths being listed as routinely as victories in games of chess, hundreds being slaughtered for their views and racial standings. It was just like any other day- smoke billowed from the army base, from the fires at the execution camps, from the chimneys of those living peacefully while their sons fought for their lives.

Pitch Black had grown used to the normalcy of chaos. Seeing soldiers drag innocent young girls away to be raped, beaten, and killed at the camps, hearing the screams of the people as they died, smelling the rotting stench of decay on everyone on the streets. It had become second nature.

One of the lucky young men to not be taken off to his death, and too old to be taken to war, Pitch Black was a hardened veteran to battle. His years of service had left him with severe breathing difficulties and nearly constant pains. The nightmares and guilt were not diagnosed by a doctor, but they were always there. His physical limitations left him as simply another mind to discuss battle strategy. A general of some sorts. He was lucky. He never forgot that, and never took that for granted.

When he went out of his house, young wives and mothers would sob upon seeing him. Why is such a young man still here but mine was taken away, they would cry. Why… He never had a real answer. He just tried to get by and prayed not to feel sorrow.

More often than not, he never felt anything. In some ways, he reveled in the insanity. He adored the blind stampeding through the streets, the shouts of men who knew not why they were shouting in the first place, the very lowest examples of human nature. It brought him back to his ancestors- all the humanity they had to face- and it made him nostalgic more than anything. It was his life, and this was theirs.

Snow had just recently fallen. It left the otherwise grey town a shimmering canvas of blank: soon to be splattered with red and black by the brush of guns and smoke. The snow looked most beautiful this way- pure, untouched by man. Much like those being taken to die… They were most beautiful before the soldiers got a hold of them and broke them- they were innocent, they were pure. All the bodies were defiled by cruel men who blindly followed orders.

As he stood on his porch, wrapped tight in his black pea coat, Pitch sighed sorrowfully at the horror. An old beggar woman was nestled at the edge of his fence- nearly frozen to death. Retreating back inside, he searched for a blanket and brought it to her. He gave her money as well, hoping that she could find a way to survive.

Times had fallen. Times were hard. Even Pitch, once a rather wealthy man, was reduced to barely a middle-class standing. He was one of the lucky ones. So many others were so much worse off. And often times they turned to him, pleading for help, for food, for clothes, for anything he could provide. He would provide only when there were no soldiers to be seen and he was not likely to hear from them during that time. He could do nothing when the men with their guns marched down the road and made camp in his home to discuss attack strategies. He could only sit and watch as the people who turned to him turned and ran instead.

Standing, watching the old woman wander to a stand to buy food, Pitch let his gaze fall to the snowy earth. What world was this? Not the one he was born in… No…

Slowly his eyes began to trail across his small yard. Rabbit tracks…squirrel tracks… twigs from the trees. It was odd to find animal tracks, now that everything was being killed for food, but his eyes noticed another oddity that was more pressing. Footprints… Bare footprints…

Moving slowly through the white powder, Pitch stared down at the imprints in the snow. Yes, they were bare footprints- who would be walking through the snow without any protection for their feet?

Someone who has no choice…

Carefully, his eyes trailed after the prints- landing at the front of his small brown shed. Furrowing his brow, Pitch glanced carefully over his shoulders, both left and right, and seeing no sign of soldiers, he made his way toward the small hut.

Reaching a hand out slowly, he pulled the key from within the hollowed tree beside the shed, and made to unlock the door. He paused at the shouts from the street- soldiers were marching down the road. He turned his head to watch, making sure they would not stop at his home, but the men simply marched through, shoving stragglers out of their way and barking orders at bystanders.

Still he waited. He waited until he could no longer hear the stomp of their boots. Carefully he turned the key, noting that it was already unlocked, and pulled open the door of the shed.

Light flooded into the dark space hungrily, exposing the tiny movement behind his pile of boxes to his eyes. He reached a hand up carefully and took a flashlight from one shelf before closing the door to the shed and flicking it on.

The artificial light had a more yellow glow, but it still illuminated what he needed to see. Walking slowly, Pitch approached the boxes and inched around them, pointing the light directly onto the figure curled there.

Wide blue eyes blinked up at him- eyes filled with sheer terror- and Pitch quickly felt any thoughts of attacking the intruder slip from his mind. It was a boy. He looked to be no older than eighteen. His stark white hair had an unnatural hue to it, as did those blue eyes he blinked. The boy held his hands in fists close to his chest; a natural reflex to make a sort of wall between them, and he shivered with fear as he stared up at Pitch. His pants were brown with ratty and brown with mud, and the pathetic fragments of his shirt were flimsy shreds hanging loosely over his thin frame.

Pitch could see how malnourished the boy was- ribs prominently shone in the light- and he felt pity for his suffering.

Kneeling down, Pitch held out a hand to the boy, who only glanced at it quickly and returned to staring at him like a cornered animal. He offered the child a tender smile, whispering softly, "Don't be frightened… I won't hurt you…"

The boy's lips quivered before he spoke. And when he did his whole body trembled with the effort. A weak, but deep, voice said, "I need to find my sister…"

"And how old is she?" Pitch asked, going along with the boy in hopes that he could gain some of his trust.

"Ten," the boy replied. Inwardly Pitch knew that there was very little hope for her. The youngest were killed as quickly as possible.

But, he nodded silently and asked in a gentle coo, "And what does she look like…?"

Touching his hair, the boy said, "She has brown hair… Past her shoulders…" Shivering, he touched his cheek and whispered, "B... Brown eyes…"

Pitch nodded slowly, watching the boy show him. Smiling a little, he said, "Well, I'm an acquaintance of one of the men who runs the camp nearby… Is that where she is…?" The boy nodded with a quiet whimper.

"I'll head there as soon as I can to look for her, kay…?" he whispered, smiling warmly at the boy. The boy smiled a little and nodded. Offering him his hand again, Pitch asked, "Would you like to come inside with me…? It's much warmer there, and I'm sure you'd be more comfortable… How long have you been out here…?"

"Last night…" the boy said, glancing from Pitch's eyes to his hand and back, "I ran away last night…"

"What happened to you…?" Pitch asked, "Your hair and your eyes… They don't look like yours…"

The boy whimpered quietly, curling in on himself as he said, "Th… They ran tests… Wanted to see if my hair and eyes could change if they used chemicals… They… they wanted to test my sister, but I asked for it to be me… Couldn't let them hurt her… Couldn't… I couldn't…"

Carefully, slowly, Pitch moved to touch the boy. The shivering child gasped softly in worry, but Pitch's hands moved to gently pull him into an embrace. He seemed grateful for the warmth of another body; quickly the boy melted into his arms, sobbing quietly and trying to nuzzle into his warm, foggy breath.

"I'm going to take you inside now, alright…?" Pitch whispered, adjusting his arms to lift the boy up. The boy nodded weakly and Pitch began walking him to his home. Not risking being seen by anyone, let alone soldiers, he went in through the back and took the child right to his living room, setting him by the fireplace.

Quickly the boy relaxed in the warmth. His shivers subsided and he seemed to liquefy on the couch. Pitch placed a blanket over him and asked if he was hungry.

"Very, yes," the boy whispered, pulling the blanket up to his chin. Pitch nodded and brought food out to him. Unsure of what the boy wanted, Pitch simply brought him a small bundle of everything. Meat, fruits, vegetables, and desserts. Most all were warm.

He set a tray out before the boy, whose eyes seemed to glow with wonder at the sight. With a light flush to his cheeks, he thanked Pitch and lifted some of the meat to his mouth. He ate rather fast, and Pitch, at one point, had to place his hand upon the boy's leg and say, "Easy now, you'll get sick if you eat so fast…"

The boy nodded and slowed his pace. After he had eaten a fairly large amount, Pitch decided he could ask him a question. The first was basic.

"What's your name?" he asked, gently rubbing his hand up and down the boy's leg.

Swallowing, he said quietly, "Jack. My name's Jack…"

"Jack…" Pitch repeated quietly. "I see… And, Jack, what's your sister's name…?"

"Emma," Jack replied, with a quiet swallow, "Emma… Emma Frost…"

"Frost…" Pitch repeated, nodding slowly. "Very good…" Jack ate his full, and leaned back with a satisfied smile. The smile faded, however, at the sounds of soldiers shouting out on the street. A look of fear replaced that happy smile.

Swallowing, Jack tried to hide himself in that blanket. Pitch rubbed his back tenderly before saying, "Jack, listen to me." He looked at him with his unnatural blue eyes and Pitch said, "I'm going to go find your-… Emma," he corrected himself, now knowing the girl's name, "I'll go now, and I want you to stay right here until I get back… Don't walk to another room, don't move to a different chair, don't answer the door for any reason, do you understand?" Jack nodded and Pitch continued, "If you disobey I can't guarantee you won't be found out and harmed…"

Again, Jack nodded. And with one nod of his own, Pitch got up and headed out to find Jack's little sister. He brought with him a big huge bag filled with potatoes, in case he needed a way of transporting the little girl. His feet crunched in the snow as he walked.


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Body in the Shed – Second Addition**_

**More of the sadness… And all the feels… Please, again, if this offends you in any way, you really need to stop reading… I don't want to be the one breaking your heart in the end.. Okay? Just… Just stahp before you get hurt…**

_**The Body in the Shed.**_

Pitch had his sack of useless, mostly dead potatoes, inspected upon arrival at the door of the camp. The guards knew him, but they said orders were orders. He understood, nodding and watching sorrowfully as a woman within the camp screamed.

Her child was being taken from her. Off to be killed… It must have been heartbreaking… The poor baby didn't even understand what was happening. He was too small to realize that he'd never see his mother again… Never see anyone again… These were his last moments and they were being twisted and broken into a horrifying scene.

He looked back to the guards as they handed the red sack back to him. Nodding with a small smile, Pitch began slowly walking through the camp. People looked up at him, eyes looking far too big for their thin, bony heads, as he walked and pleaded with him to save them. He wished he could… He had fought wars before. He knew that sometimes killing was necessary… But this… This was unlike anything he had ever seen…

Bodies littered the earth. Blood filled every pore of every puddle. Death sank through his flesh and rotted him from within.

Blocking view with his own frame, Pitch handed a prisoner one of the spuds. The man thanked him in quiet whispers, hurrying away with his food. He knew anything he had would help some of them survive. Finding a teenager curled against the wall, he offered him one as well. The brown eyed boy reminded him of the boy sitting in his house… Waiting for him to save his little sister.

Pitch gave out several more to the unimaginably thin people. But his general 'friend' found him and greeted him with an all-too cheerful smile. He clapped his shoulder and asked what the visit was for. Pitch lied and said he hoped to give them some food for the prisoners. His former friend laughed.

"Why would we need anything more? These people don't deserve anything," he had said. Pitch swallowed and didn't say any more. He just watched people scrambling to live.

Swallowing, Pitch said, "Actually, I was hoping you could take me to the lab… I… I wanted to see some of the experiments you've been doing…" It disgusted him to say it. He never wanted anything like this to happen to anyone…

The general led him through a dimly lit hallway filled with nurses and gurneys. He saw bloody gloves filling a trash can, and he tried not to see a young boy getting his fingers sliced open. He tried so hard not to see it… But the pain in the boy's face made him see it. He wished he could help him.

"C-couldn't you give him some sedatives?' he asked, pointing to the boy.

The general laughed. "And waste perfectly good medicine?"

Pitch swallowed again.

"It's been proven, though," he said, gaining his friend's attention, "that too much pain can cause a person to go into shock and die… Many of my comrades died of shock in battle… And… Well you wouldn't want them dying before… before…" He couldn't finish. It was too terrible to finish.

But the general grinned. "Why, Pitch, you're absolutely right! Can't find out if our tests worked if they're already dead! You always were a smart fucker!" Pitch cringed. The general went and ordered the nurse performing the gruesome operation on the boy to give him some painkillers.

The boy's wide green eyes thanked Pitch, but pleaded with him all the same. Pitch felt tears pull at the corners of his eyes. He wanted to help. Really he did. But what could he do…? He was already risking his life to save someone who might not even be here.

The general walked with Pitch again, his heavy books clanking on the concrete floor. Finally they reached a large room filled with tables full of crying children and adults. There were bleeding men and women lying on hospital beds, others sat with bandages wrapping around parts of their bodies. One woman was tied to a bed with IVs in her arms. She was screaming. From the color of the liquid, it was a safe bet they were emptying acid into her veins. Pitch had to avert his eyes.

"Well, this is it," the general said, smiling brightly, "Over to our left is our test group, and on our right is our control." Pitch quickly looked to the right. There were adults and children huddled there, each sobbing, and they watched the general fearfully.

Pitch scanned the faces. He spied several young girls. Three of them had brown hair. Squinting harder, Pitch tried to find a smidgen of resemblance to the boy he had rescued in their faces. One girl had matted brown hair that reached to about her shoulders, and she had big, scared eyes. Those were Jack's eyes… A different color, but they were his. That girl was Emma…

The general noticed him looking at the children. He grinned. "Any of them catch your fancy Pitch? I'd be happy to let you have one for a few hours… You always did like younger women, didn't you?" Pitch cringed. He had never even once implied that. This general was probably assuming Pitch was just like him.

Still, this was something he could work with… Pointing into the group, he said, "Um… Yes, actually the brown eyed girl there…" The general laughed brightly before jumping forward and yanking the terrified girl from the group. He dragged her off with him and led she and Pitch to a room. He told Pitch the door would be open for him and laughed, telling him to get in a few rounds for him.

"You aren't staying?" Pitch asked, hiding his hopefulness beautifully.

"No, no, I have other matters to attend to, like that shock issue you mentioned… Must go let the nurses know…" he said before closing the door.

Pitch waited until the loud clack of his boots faded before turning to the girl. She was curled far in the corner, absolutely terrified that Pitch actually meant to rape her.

Squatting down, Pitch offered her a small smile.

"Emma?" he whispered. She blinked, mouth making an 0 shape. He smiled a little wider. "Emma…"

"How do you know my name?" she demanded, still looking scared.

Pitch sighed a little with happiness. "I know your brother… Jack…" her eyes shone with recognition, but the fear never left her face.

"Where is he? Is he okay?" she asked, "You didn't kill him, did you?"

Inching closer, Pitch hushed her. "No, no, I didn't hurt him… He's alright… He's safe…" he whispered. She didn't look convinced. "I promise you, he's okay… He told me you were here… He wanted me to come save you…"

"How do I know you're not lying?" she asked, pulling in closer on herself when he extended his hand.

He sighed. "You don't…" he admitted. "You just have to trust me…"

Emma's eyes flicked from his hand to his eyes. She was nervous. That much was understandable. If a strange man came and knew his name, Pitch would be nervous too.

Pitch smiled a little. "Jack was more worried about you than himself… First thing he said to me… All he wanted was to find you…" he saw the small smile creep onto her face. "Wouldn't even talk to me unless it was about you…"

Emma let a tiny little giggle out. "That sounds like him," she said, smiling.

Frowning, she said, "I know how to tell if you're lying." Pitch nodded and waited for the test.

"He's my brother," she said, "so he should look exactly like me, right?"

"But he doesn't anymore," Pitch whispered, "His eyes had been died blue, and his hair has been burned white… From the tests they conducted on him here…"

"Was he the one they were supposed to be testing?" Emma asked, holding up her chin in a moment that in any other situation would have signified pride.

Pitch smiled. "No," he answered, "They wanted to test you first. Jack begged them to take him instead… So you would be safe." Emma's brown eyes widened, but her lips quickly cracked into a smile. Pitch wasn't lying to her. She knew now. And the trust was instant.

She stepped away from the wall, looking up into Pitch's face.

"How were you gonna get me out?" she asked. He sighed.

"Well, it's not ideal, but the only way I could think of it was to smuggle you out…" he set the sack down. "If I carry you out in this can you remain perfectly still and silent…?" She looked inside, frowning a little at the potatoes. But when he asked that question she looked back up at him and nodded.

Carefully they found a way to situate her, and Pitch began the treacherous trek back out of the camp. If the guards re-checked his bag they were done for. He prayed he would get lucky today. He absolutely prayed. If for no one's sake but Emma's. She had suffered through this enough. Her freedom was so close. He couldn't fail now.

The guards saluted him as he walked by, not bothering to check his bag a second time. They had seen its contents earlier. Once they were ten feet away Pitch let out a breath he had been holding since before he realized he was holding it.

Slowly crunching through the snow, the tall man walked to his house, unlocking the door quickly and stepping inside. He closed the curtains in the front and then went to the living room.

Jack looked absolutely terrified until he saw it was him. His whole being relaxed. Pitch smiled at him and set the sack down, opening the top.

When Emma's little brown head popped out Pitch felt overjoyed at seeing the way Jack's gaunt face lit up.

"EMMA!" he shouted, rushing forward and throwing himself into a tearful hug. Emma cried with him, hugging him like he was the most precious thing on earth. Pitch smiled and allowed them their reunion. How could he deny that?

Jack kissed her forehead, brushed her hair aside, kissed her again, and pulled her in close. His shoulders shook with happy sobs as he caressed the back of her head. He didn't care how tangled her hair was, he was running his fingers through it. He kissed the side of her head, letting his tears soak into her messy brown hair, while hers dripped into the thin fragments of his shirt.

"You're okay," he whispered, "You're okay… Thank God…" Emma nuzzled her face into his shoulder, clawing his back and refusing to let him go.

"Jack, I was so scared," she whimpered, "I thought you got caught… I thought you were dead…"

Jack made soft shooshing sounds as he stroked his hand up and down her back.

"It's alright, Emma… It's alright… I'm here… Big brother's here now…" he whispered, pressing his nose to the back of her neck and sobbing happily.

Pitch smiled fondly watching them embrace. It was obvious they loved each other very much. They were probably all they had now. Their parents were either dead or close to it. They were lucky they had made it…

Getting to his feet, Pitch went to his kitchen to get some food for the girl. She must have been hungry. She was thin as well, but not nearly so much as Jack. She was lucky she still had some baby fat. It was probably all that had sustained her…

Coming back out, Pitch wasn't surprised to find they were still in the same position as when he left. He set the plate of food down on the table and went about the house to close curtains and shades and blinds and whatever else covered windows. It took some time but it was finally finished.

Returning to the living room once more, Pitch was happy to find Jack sitting on the couch, Emma on his knee eating some of the food he had provided. Jack looked up when he heard him come back in and he smiled wide at him.

"Thank you," he said, tears falling from his eyes.

"Don't thank me yet," Pitch said, walking over and sitting near them on the couch, "We still have to get you two through this…"

"You brought her back," Jack whispered, sounding so overjoyed that his voice cracked, "You brought my sister back…"

Pitch smiled. "You asked me to," he whispered, watching as little Emma munched on a cookie. She apparently had a sweet-tooth.

Jack nuzzled Emma close to him. "Well, thank you," he said. Pitch only nodded and watched them. Jack was a wonderful older brother- comforting her like this. Keeping her safe… He had done so much more than almost anyone would have been willing to do… He sacrificed himself for her…

Looking the two children over, Pitch asked, "After this would the two of you like a bath and a change of clothes?" Emma looked at her brown, dirty knees and nodded almost immediately. Every part of their bodies was covered in dirt, mud, possibly dried blood, and dead skin. They needed a good scrubbing something awful.

Pitch let Emma finish eating and then he led them upstairs to his en-suite. Getting the tub ready, filling it with steaming water, he went and had the children pick out some clothes. None of his would fit either of them, but they could find some things, he was sure.

Emma found a long sleeved black silk shirt of Pitch's, and he took one of his ties and offered for her to use it as a belt. She was thin enough where it would probably work. Jack found some grey jeans and a thin black shirt. He said he liked the stitching on the shirt.

Once their outfits were ready the two went to the bathroom. Pitch didn't join them; he knew Jack could help wash his sister just fine on his own. Besides, it was probably best they get some more time to build back that bond. A few times he heard giggling and splashing, and that made him happy. Even after all this they hadn't lost that childhood innocence. These two really were lucky…

Sitting up, Pitch heard Jack call him after a while. Walking warily into the doorway, Pitch smiled at seeing Jack trying to brush Emma's hair out. Pitch smiled.

"I can't get the tangles, can you help?" he asked. They were already wearing their new clothes: the tie worked as a belt, as Pitch had guessed.

Smiling and shaking his head, Pitch squatted down, taking hold of the comb and carefully pulling it out of her hair. He took a bottle of conditioner that he actually never used and squeezed some into his hands. He ran it over the tangles and between some locks of hair a few times before running his fingers down through her brown locks. After a couple small tugs his fingers slid through and the knots were gone.

Jack watched, smiling happily as Pitch combed his sister's hair out. Pitch then took a bow-tie and tied her hair back, giving her a bow in her ponytail.

"You look so pretty Em," Jack said, rubbing her shoulder with a loving smile. She smiled back at him and ruffled his wet white locks.

Jack laughed and kissed her cheek. Pitch smiled at them and stood up. Jack quickly reached his hand out for him. The man squatted back down to their level.

"Yes?" he asked, expecting to have to help with something else. After all, they were still only kids, they couldn't do everything. They hadn't learned how to.

Jack smiled brightly, motioning Emma forward, and they each kissed Pitch's cheeks. Jack kissed the right, Emma the left.

Pitch blinked in surprise. Jack smiled. "We weren't sure how else to thank you," he said, grinning brightly, "But we thought that worked pretty well, right?" Emma nodded, smiling just as brightly as her older brother.

Rubbing his cheek, Pitch smiled warmly at them. "Yes, I suppose that's more than enough." Emma giggled. "Now come on, time for you two to get to bed… You've had a long day."

Jack lifted Emma into his arms and walked her to the bed. Pitch was giving them his bed- he knew they'd want to sleep together: it was only natural. Once the two were all snuggled into the blankets, he shut off the lights and left the room.

He spared one last glance over his shoulder, smiling fondly at his two little stow-aways. It was odd, but seeing them and taking care of them, Pitch felt like a father. And it was a wonderful feeling to have…


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Body in the Shed – Third Addition**_

Pitch had fallen asleep on his couch that night. His night robe, as he called it, opened a large portion of his bare chest to the air, and then hung loosely over the edges of the couch. A loud knocking at his front door was what woke him.

Getting up, he opened the door a little and found a general he knew quite well standing there, smiling at him. There were at least three other army officials with him, and about a dozen or so soldiers. He jumped a little, revealing his exposed skin.

"Oh, general, just a moment, I'm not decent… Please, please, come in," he said, tugging the robe closed. The men clomped inside, admiring some of the artwork. The soldiers went right for the food in his kitchen.

Swallowing, he inched his way to the stairs. Touching the railing in a manner that was rather protective, he said, "Just give me a moment to put on something more appropriate and I'll be right with you all…" They told him to take his time: the general had gotten into his wine.

Hurrying, but not too obviously, up the staircase, Pitch opened his bedroom door, flicked on the light, and shut it behind him all in the time span of a few seconds. He turned back around, looking at the bed. Both of the children were looking at him, fear evident in their eyes.

He quickly went to the bedside. Jack quickly began asking what was going on, but Pitch silenced him. "Hush now, hush," he whispered, placing three fingers to the boy's lips, "There are soldiers here now, and they can't find you here… You have to promise me you won't make a sound until I come back up and tell you it's safe to do otherwise…"

He looked between the pairs of eyes worriedly. "Understand?" he whispered, searching for a flicker of understanding in those terrified orbs. Both children nodded silently.

Stepping back, Pitch went and found himself a shirt. "I have to go down and talk with them for a while…" he said, tugging the robe off and pulling the new shirt on over his shoulders, "I need you two to stay exactly where you are… If you move and the bed creaks, I might not be able to make a reasonable excuse for it…" He glanced over at them and they both nodded.

He went back over to the siblings, kissing their foreheads tenderly. "Just stay put…" he whispered, "You're gonna be fine, just stay here…"

"Okay," Jack whispered to him. Emma just clung tight to her older brother fearfully. Pitch felt his breath hitch in his throat seeing how truly frightened they both were. Children shouldn't have to suffer through fear like this…

Sighing sadly, he left the room, closing the door behind him, and he walked back down to join the army men.

He hardly felt anything seeing the mess they had made. It happened every time they came: he knew he'd be cleaning up later. The soldiers and generals alike were pigs. They could sit here and stuff their faces when good people were out on the streets starving to death and not feel a thing. It was sickening.

"Ah, Pitchiner! Come, sit! We must talk battle tactics!" the general with the big bushy mustache called. Sighing, Pitch walked over and sat to talk.

Hours upon endless hours of useless talk later, the men had finally come to a decision. They were doing exactly what Pitch suggested- he knew best. The last time they divulged from his plan they lost three hundred men to the enemy. So, in retrospect, they learned that what Pitch said was law.

He waved as the men departed, truly grateful for their leaving. He ran his fingers through his spiky black hair and grumbled, "How did I ever get into this mess…?"

Slowly making his way up the stairs, Pitch pushed the door open. He smiled when he saw both children looking at him with hope in their wide, tired eyes.

"H-have they gone…?" Jack asked, holding his sister close to him. Pitch nodded and both children smiled.

"Yes, they've gone," Pitch said, walking over and helping them out of the massive bed. Jack needed less help, as his legs were longer, but he still had trouble climbing through all the blankets. He offered to have them pick out some new clothes for the day.

Emma found a big red shirt of Pitch's and she wore it with one of his belts around her waist, keeping it from flapping loosely around her tiny frame. Jack found a blue shirt and black pants. Pitch helped brush out Emma's long hair and the three went downstairs.

Pitch groaned when he remembered the mess. There were bits of food over everything. Both children looked surprised. "Did those men do this?" Emma asked. Pitch nodded, bending down to pick up a bone from the floor. "But if they were visiting your house, shouldn't they try not to mess it up?"

"One with any decency would assume so," Pitch grumbled. He heard Emma ask Jack what decency meant: he smiled at how adorable it was.

Pitch blinked when he saw Jack crouched in front of him, picking up scraps too. Emma joined him, making disgusted faces at chunks of meat in the rug. "Oh, no, you two don't have to help," Pitch said, "You just sit and relax a while… I'll get you some food in a moment."

Jack smiled at him. "You can get us food faster if we help," he said, nudging Emma playfully, "Besides, it's not so bad… Just pickin up some food…" Pitch smiled and watched them for a few seconds. Even after having suffered the way they did these children were still so pure. Maybe there was hope for humanity after all…

At one point Jack picked up a smashed cookie, showing it to Emma and saying that somebody had more of a sweet-tooth than her. Emma just pouted at it and threw the cookie away.

Once most everything had been picked up and tossed in the trash, Pitch called the two children into his kitchen/dining room combo and asked them what they wanted for breakfast.

As Jack lifted her into her chair, Emma said, "Eggs!" Jack quickly agreed.

"Eggs'd be nice," he mumbled, blushing sheepishly. Pitch only smiled and nodded. Jack didn't have to feel embarrassed for asking for food; Pitch had offered. He was trying to take care of them.

Emma bounced in her chair happily. "The chair squeaks!" she said with a little giggle. Pitch smiled. He was glad she was recovering so nicely from the camp. Jack seemed to be having a little more trouble, but that was probably because he had suffered through having to leave his sister behind to get himself out. It had probably killed him…

Pitch set plates down in front of the two of them, giving each child three cooked eggs and some fruit. Emma immediately went for the strawberries.

As he washed off the frying pan, Pitch listened to the children talk. "Hey Jack, how come they couldn't feed us like this at the camp…? Why didn't they like us…?" Emma asked. Pitch felt his heart sink with pity.

"Em, they probably didn't want us to be happy there," Jack said, "It seemed like they just wanted to make us all sad…"

"Well that isn't nice," she said, "It wasn't funny when they poked you with all those needles… They hurt you… I was scared you were gonna die…" Her voice had faded to a whisper now, and Pitch heard a chair scrape as someone got out of their seat. He had a pretty good feeling that it was Jack, moving to hold his sister.

"I know, Em, I know… But I'm okay now… And you're okay now… We're both gonna be fine…" Jack whispered, "I promise, we'll be okay…"

"Mister?" it was Emma.

Turning around, Pitch smiled softly and replied, "Yes?"

"You're not gonna let them take us back are you? I'm scared… What if they poke Jack with more needles…?" she asked, looking at him with such pleading sorrow in her eyes that Pitch felt his heart melt.

Approaching them slowly, he said, "No, I won't let them take you… You're both staying with me until I can find somewhere that you'll be safe…"

"We aren't safe here?" Jack asked, blinking those big blue eyes up at him.

Pitch smiled comfortingly. "Well, you are," he said, "But there are better places… Places where you won't have to hide away because generals and soldiers are coming in for a visit…" Jack looked at him hopefully.

"I could try and contact an old friend, maybe he'd be willing to take the both of you in…" he whispered, rubbing Jack's shoulder fondly.

Emma pouted. "I like staying here, though," she said, "You're the one who got me away from the mean doctors…" Pitch smiled at her.

"And it's warm, and there's good food," she said, "And nobody tries to touch you or drag you away to another room…" Her voice fell as an obviously terrible memory took hold of her. Jack quickly held her in his arms, rocking her and caressing her head.

Jack looked to Pitch pleadingly, silently begging to let them stay here. He sighed and nodded to him.

"I really think you'd like my friend, though," Pitch said a little while later, sitting out in the living room with them, "He's a toy maker… There would always be something for the both of you to play with…" Jack smiled, nudging Emma, but she said she liked it here better. She then cuddled closer to the fireplace.

Pitch smiled, watching Emma read. She had found his bookshelf and was in the process of trying to read one of his books. She looked to be having a hard time of it, but every time Jack offered to help she'd shoo him and say that she could figure it out.

His eyes went to Jack after that. He was still bone skinny, but he had a much healthier glow to him now. A good night's sleep and fresh food in his belly was probably doing the trick. It seemed almost strange that Pitch had only found him hiding in his shed yesterday. It felt like it had been much longer.

Jack got up and moved over to the chair Pitch was sitting in; cuddling into his lap and pulling a blanket tight around his shoulders. Pitch laughed. "There's a fireplace, you know…"

"Yeah, but it's making me sweat," he grumbled, "It's cooler over here, but still warm…"

"Want me to move?" Pitch offered.

"Nah, it's okay," Jack said, resting his head on the arm of the chair, "Just don't squish me…" Pitch chuckled and ruffled his hair.

After a while Emma got tired of reading her book and she decided to join her brother curled up in Pitch's lap. It was somewhat funny to see the both of them fall asleep on his chest like that, but at the same time it was almost endearing. They could sleep anywhere- everywhere was more comfortable than the places they slept in camp. Pitch smiled down at the heads of messy hair and let his own fall back into the cushions of the chair. A little sleep wouldn't hurt… He could rest for a while…


	4. Chapter 4

**The Body in the Shed – Chapter Four**

Pitch groaned softly when he woke up- his neck hurt from the prolonged time stuck in that one position. Grumbling, he shifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, rolling it around a few times to relieve the stiffness. He heard a few soft mewls of sleep down against his chest, and when he looked he smiled at the way Jack and Emma had snuggled up together. They each were holding his shirt in their tiny hands, bunched in fists. And occasionally one of them would let a miniscule little snore rumble through their noses. All in all they looked absolutely precious.

Rubbing his hand over the tops of their heads, Pitch smiled at the way they each leaned into the touch. He decided to let them stay there until they felt like waking up. After that he'd make them some supper, or a midnight snack, or whatever. He had absolutely no idea what time it was, but he could tell that it was dark outside, as the dull glow of the embers in the fire provided the only real light.

He sat and stroked his palm over the tops of their heads. He would alternate from Jack to Emma, just petting the soft hairs that they both had. Jack took up a lot more space on the armchair than Emma did- his long, gangly legs were hanging off the edge of the cushion. Pitch reached down and adjusted the way his legs were, tucking them under his thin frame, and ruffled Jack's hair. The movement seemed to stir him, and Jack swayed his head a little, moaning softly.

Pitch just sat there, watching him wake up, not pressuring him into actually getting up if he didn't want to. Finally Pitch saw Jack blinking his eyes open. He released his grip on Pitch's shirt with one hand and rubbed the sleep sand from his eyes. He yawned quietly, clenching Pitch's shirt tighter with the hand that still held it, and rubbed his face back into Pitch's chest like he was going to sleep again.

But Pitch saw Jack continue blinking. He held his shirt in both hands now, and he didn't say anything, but he was definitely awake. He was probably still waking up… Eventually the big blue eyes that weren't really Jack's lifted up and blinked up at him. Yep, Jack was still trying to wake up, he looked tired.

Smiling down at him, Pitch ruffled his hair again and Jack's sleepy face slowly spread into a smile. "M'rn'ng," Jack mumbled, yawning again sleepily.

With a soft chuckle, Pitch said, "It's far from morning, Jack…"

Jack pressed the side of his face back into Pitch's chest and yawned again. He watched Emma sleeping for a minute or two before he muttered, "M'hungry…"

"I could make you something if you want," Pitch said, "Of course, after Emma wakes up…" Jack poked Emma's cheek and she shifted a little, but didn't wake. Jack poked her cheek again. Pitch stopped him. "Jack, that's no way to wake someone," he said.

"But I'm hungry…" Jack grumbled, looking up at him. Pitch laughed softly and shifted his weight a little.

"Take Emma," he said quietly. Jack scooped his arms around her and pulled her against him. She moaned quietly, but continued sleeping. Pitch carefully eased his way out of the armchair and said, "You just sit there with her and I'll get you something to eat…"

As he began walking away, he asked, "Want anything specific?"

He looked back to the skinny teen and waited. Jack thought about it for a little while and asked, "Would pasta be too much trouble…?"

Pitch chuckled warmly. "Hardly," he said. He went to the kitchen, turning a light on that was a little ways away from the living room. He didn't want to wake Emma if he didn't have to. She deserved to be able to sleep.

As the water boiled, Pitch came back out and re-lit the fire, fanning it softly and adding a bit more kindling to it. Jack watched from the chair, holding Emma in his arms, and he said in a quiet whisper, "Thank you, again… I know I'll never be able to repay you for this…"

Smiling to himself, Pitch replied, "I know. You'll never have to. Don't worry…" Once the fire was crackling brightly, he returned to the kitchen to continue making Jack some food. After a little while Pitch heard a yawn, higher than Jack's, and he smiled at the realization that Emma was awake.

"Good thing I've prepared enough for two," he said, smiling. After he had finished cooking the food, Pitch came out to the living room and peeked over the armchair. Jack smiled up at him, and Emma yawned. "Food's ready," he said.

Jack hopped up, still cradling Emma in his arms, and carried her to the little dining area. Pitch followed behind them, watching as Jack set Emma down in her own chair. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and hardly even noticed when Pitch set her plate before her. Jack had to nudge her gently for her to stop rubbing sand from her eyes and look down.

She smiled at the food, her stomach growling out of nowhere. She began eating happily, and Jack went to his own seat. He went to eat, but stopped. Pitch hoped he wasn't suddenly deciding on a different meal.

"Aren't you going to eat?" the blue eyed boy asked. Pitch chuckled a little, but made himself a plate and sat with the siblings. The three ate together, and Pitch noted to himself that they looked something of a family.

Once the eating was finished, and Emma was asking for dessert, Pitch decided to ask a bold question. "Why did they take the two of you to the camp anyhow? I know their reasons are pathetic, but they must have had one…" he spoke calmly, not forcing an answer, just hoping for one.

Emma blinked and frowned unhappily. She looked down and didn't talk. Jack, however sad he looked, said, "Our dad spoke out against the government… And… I went with him to a protest once… They figured the whole family was a threat…"

Pitch looked between the two of them. How anyone could find these two tiny children even mildly threatening was beyond him.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Body In The Shed- Chapter Five**

Pitch was sitting in his living room now- both of the siblings were sound asleep upstairs in his room. He was thankful for that, he could hear shouting outside; he didn't want them to be frightened. It sounded like another raid. Why search through the homes of suspected criminals when they've already stolen everything they own?

He was lucky he was an ex-war general. He was lucky they immediately assumed he was on their side. If he didn't pretend to support what they were doing then those soldiers would be running into his house as fast as they could, destroying his property, and finding the kids. That was what scared him the most- was that those two would be found. He didn't care what happened to him or anything he owned, all that mattered now was keeping those two safe.

Pitch frowned as he remembered how terribly cruel he had been when fighting in his battles. He had murdered innocent women and children. He had looked them in the eyes and killed them.

He had been so detached from all feelings for so long. It had only been one split second of compassion that cost him his continued war-tour and granted him his understanding. One split second of seeing a father shield his wife and child from his sword that gave Pitch the realization that this man had done nothing wrong. That he was ruining lives by killing husbands. And he had stopped, frozen to the spot. And that had been when a soldier attacked him, cutting across his chest with his sword, and nearly killing him in turn.

Pitch remembered the confusion in the father's eyes. He had probably been the only soldier to ever stop and think. He wondered now if it had made any difference. Had the family survived that invasion?

His time at the hospital had been awful. He was left with both lungs retaining slight damage and scar tissue across his chest and ribs. The pale scar still shone on his chest.

Sighing, Pitch got up and went to the window to look and see if the raid was finished. He saw a woman scrambling desperately to get away from a soldier, and he cringed when he slammed the butt of his gun into her back. But the next step was too far for him. The soldier began tearing her clothes away- the pathetic rags they were.

Jumping into himself, Pitch snarled angrily. He would not sit by and watch as this man raped her! Throwing his door open, he shouted to the man, "Soldier! You forget your place! Move along or I WILL report you to your commanding officer!"

The man, who looked to be no more than twenty, froze seeing him, and scurried away after being scolded. The soldiers knew who he was. They knew whose house this was. The generals had made sure to be clear not to mess with his property, not to get on Pitch's bad side: he remembered one man had told him that they said "he may be old, but he'll kick your ass to fucking Jupiter if he wants." An effective way to scare all the kids.

The woman said several dozen 'thank you's to him before she ran off to hide somewhere. She didn't even wait or ask for new clothes. Pitch would have given her something, but she was frightened. As everyone was.

"What's going on?" Pitch blinked hearing the soft voice from inside his house. Turning and rushing back inside, closing the door quickly, Pitch stared in shock at Jack. He was standing in his hallway, holding the bottom of his shirt worriedly, and just staring right at Pitch with big scared eyes.

"I heard yelling," Jack said.

Pitch swallowed. "Is Emma awake?" he asked. Jack nodded.

"I told her to stay in the room…" he said softly, "I thought they were taking you away…"

"No," Pitch quickly said, moving forward to hold the frightened teenager, "No, no, they weren't. Please, just go back upstairs and let Emma know everything's alright… Both of you, please, just go to sleep… It'll be alright…"

Jack nodded once. "Okay," he said, turning and slowly going back up the staircase. Pitch waited until he heard the click of the door to his bedroom.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. This was dangerous. Keeping them here… They weren't safe.

Frowning, Pitch didn't care if the children said they wanted to stay, he was going to write to Nicholas. He had to get them to a safe place where they'd be happy and wouldn't have to worry about anything. If he could have called, he would have, but even his calls were being traced and listened to now. At least with a letter to an old friend he'd be given the benefit of the doubt. For a while his mail had been read and searched as well, but after finding that he never wrote anything other than letters asking who was still alive and who was doing okay, the army gave up on him. They trusted him too much for their own good.

It took him hours to write a letter that, just in case, was coded deeply enough to keep their secret. And besides the cryptic flare of the message, he wrote half in Russian. (Nicholas's native tongue.)

Even if it was checked, the poor soldier trying to read it would have absolutely no idea what he was trying to say. Pitch was rather pleased with himself when he finished.

Sitting at his table, Pitch ran his fingers through his hair again. Maybe he should check on the kids… His eyes slowly went to the stairs. He hadn't heard any noise… They were probably okay… But…

Soon enough he was opening the bedroom door, peering inside, and walking over to the bed to smile down at the sleeping faces. Running his fingers over the messy heads of hair, Pitch pulled the blankets up over them a little more, and watched them snuggle into the warmth.

"Why did I ever join the army…?" he asked himself quietly, running the backs of his fingers down Emma's chubby baby fat cheeks. "Why was I such a monster…?"

He sighed to himself, leaving the children to sleep, and walked back downstairs.

It wasn't the army that was bad. It was just the people in charge and the people who didn't stand up and do what was right. Pitch had been one of those people for so long… He couldn't remember how long it had been before he had that little epiphany. He had been in the army for years before then- invading other nations and destroying other homes. It felt like an eternity.

Sitting on his couch, Pitch decided he'd be able to think more easily if he got a good night's sleep. Letting his eyes fall shut, Pitch sank into the cushions of the couch and drifted off into nothingness.

He woke up when faint light filtered in through the blocked windows. Blinking his tired eyes open, Pitch was surprised to find the kids down there already, sitting on the armchair. Jack was awake, and Emma was asleep, but they both looked tired. When had they come down? Did they sleep there all night?

"How long have you two been down here?" he asked, sitting up.

"A while," Jack said, shaking Emma awake.

Pitch looked at the two of them for a moment or two in confusion. Emma smiled at him, then frowned. "Did we kick you out of your bed?" she asked, looking at him, then the couch, "You slept on your couch…"

Smiling a little, Pitch said, "No, no, you didn't. I wanted the two of you to take my bed room. It's safest for you up there, and the bed's big enough for you both to share it…"

"It's big enough for you too," Emma said, frowning still, "We could all share the bed. You don't have to sleep down here on the couch." Jack smiled awkwardly down at her, and Pitch couldn't help but smile. "I don't snore," she said, "Jack's told me so."

"Maybe another night," he said, getting to his feet, "Now, are you two hungry?" Emma nodded, as did Jack, and Pitch went out to the kitchen. They followed close behind. "What do you want?" he asked them with a friendly smile.

"Pancakes!" Emma said, jumping up to her seat at the table. Jack nodded, going and sitting at his own chair.

As Pitch made them breakfast, the three of them talked. Jack asked at one point, "Were those soldiers looking for us last night?"

"No, thank goodness," Pitch said, "I doubt the doctors have even realized either one of you left."

"Good," Emma spat, "They were awful people anyway. I'm never going back there. I'll run away before they can take me back…"

Pitch didn't look back at them when she said that. He felt his smile fall a little as she spoke, but not because he was unhappy. "Don't worry," he whispered, "You'll never go back… I won't let them take you…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Ugh… Been away from this story for too long… Sorry 'bout that…. Been busy….**

**The Body In The Shed – Chapter Six**

Pitch was helping brush Emma's hair. The siblings had just taken a bath and Jack was still having problems untangling all of her brown hair. Pitch tried to ignore how bony her shoulders were as he brushed through the locks, about as much as he tried to ignore how he could count each of Jack's ribs. Apparently only their faces had gained back some fat.

He smiled softly at Jack as the boy began trying to find bobby pins and such. He wanted to put her hair back with clips. Pitch helped him to do so. Her bangs were unruly in their hanging down in her eyes, but together they managed to tame them.

"You look like a lady," Jack said, smiling and ruffling her hair. Emma giggled.

Pitch patted her head gently and got up to go back downstairs. The siblings followed behind him, Emma kept trying to knock Jack down. She made a comment that she liked Jack's old hair better and then they both went quiet. Pitch tried to ignore the sadness in the air. Walking down the stairs with the two, he offered them a snack, and then asked if they wanted him to read them a story. Emma was immediately interested in the story part, saying that she nver learnt to read.

Jack sat with him and his sister, each of them munching on a cracker or nine, and the pairs of eyes looked at the pages. Both men pointed to words on the pages, helping Emma to learn what meant what. It was difficult, but it was fun. At one point they found Jack's name in a book, and Emma was extremely happy by the fact that she could already read it. But then she was sad that they couldn't find her name.

"We should write my name in the book," she said. Pitch laughed and asked if she knew how to write. Even Jack said no. So, therefore, the rest of their night was spent teaching the two how to write. So far only their names, but it was something, right?

Emma showed Pitch her words. "See, look. 'Emma'," she said, smiling. Pitch looked at her paper and smiled.

Taking the pencil, he said, "Actullay, the 'a' has to go down... Like this..." he helped her to re-write it while Jack watched over her shoulder. He copied the same thing when he wrote his letter 'a', and then asked Pitch if it looked right.

The two continued writing back and forth, Emma and Jack, Emma and Jack. Again and again. Pitch then showed them how to write their last name.

"So can we learn how to write your last name too?" Emma asked, looking up at Pitch.

Blinking in surprise, he beagn, "Well, I suppose we cou-"

But he was cut off. Emma said, "Cuz, if you're gonna be our dad, we ned to know how to spell your name too." Jack looked shocked, quickly shifting his weight and trying to quiet her.

Looking back and forth between the two, Pitch asked softly, "Dad? Where did this come from...?"

"Well, you took us both away from the camp and we're living with you now, so you kind of adopted us, right? Even though it was creepy when you first showed up and carried me away in a potato sack... I like it here. You're nice..."

Swallowing with a smile, he said, "Alright... Sure... Let's spell my last name..."

**Sorry this was so short and so late in updating...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Baaahhhh. Too many stories to update! Not enough time to do it! (Or enough patience…) Anyone else experience Fanfic's wrath yesterday? Anyone? No? Yes? Maybe?**

**The Body in the Shed – Chapter Seven**

Pitch tucked the siblings into bed that night. In response to Emma asking if he'd be sleeping with them, he said maybe tomorrow, and gently brushed Jack's bangs from his face. Looking at the sleepy kids, he leaned forward and placed a kiss upon both their foreheads and left them.

The moment he was outside the door he placed his hand over his eyes. Good, God, this was becoming more and more dangerous by the second. He was growing so attached to these two little kids. And it was obvious, they were attached to him- Hell, Emma had called him Dad. He couldn't do this. They needed to be somewhere they could be safe. If he grew too close, it would hurt him to have to send them away.

Biting his lip, he tried to wrestle his problem in his head. If he didn't treat them kindly, he wouldn't grow attached to them, but how could he treat them with anything but kindness after what they've been through? If he cared too much for them he'd never want to let them go. But they'd have to go. He was too close to the camp. Too close to all the people who ran the camp. His house wasn't safe for them. Meetings with the generals would compromise the two of them. They could be killed if they were found here.

At least they'd be safer if they were with someone else. Although, that wasn't entirely true, either… Because he was so beloved by the generals, they never suspected him of anything. So he could keep the charade up and protect the children. But if they were ever caught, he couldn't live with himself.

He groaned unhappily at himself- there was no real way out of this mess.

Going downstairs to his living room, Pitch rested himself on his couch. Whether or not he would actually get some sleep was still to be seen. He was having such a hard time dealing with all this.

As he lay there arguing with himself over what to do, Pitch distinctly remembered hearing his clock chiming for midnight. Still not asleep… He sighed in agitation and wondered if there was a way he could be sure they would be safe.

The tiniest noise alerted Pitch to the fact that one of the children had woken up. Lifting his head, he smiled when it was actually both of them. "Everything alright?" he asked, sitting up a little.

Emma was looking straight down, and Jack was rubbing her shoulder. "Emma had a nightmare," he whispered. Pitch quickly sat up all the way and motioned for the two of them to come closer.

He wrapped his arms around the shivering girl and looked at Jack. "It's alright," he whispered, stroking her hair, "It's alright, it's alright…" Sighing softly, he asked, "Would the two of you like me to sleep upstairs with you?" Emma nodded against his chest.

Getting up, lifting little Emma into his arms, Pitch walked back up to his bedroom. He set her down first, helped Jack climb back into bed, and then waited until they were settled. He was prepared to sleep on the floor, but when he moved away Jack actually asked him where he was going. Sighing, he turned back around and said, "Nowhere…" He lifted up the blankets and climbed into bed beside them. That was all he was planning was to just lie down with them. Instead, both of them crawled over and snuggled up against him.

How was he supposed to distance himself if they were constantly making him get closer?

Exhaling slowly, he allowed the two little ones to nuzzle their heads into his chest. "Thank you," Jack whispered after a little while. Pitch smiled softly at the tiredness to his voice.

Ruffling the boy's white hair, he said, "Just get some rest…"

When the sunlight barely made its way through the drawn curtains, it didn't wake them. What did was the loud knocking on the front door. Pitch slowly blinked his eyes open at the sound and lifted his head to see if he was dreaming or not. The knocking came again.

Jolting upright, waking both the siblings, Pitch listened to hear if there were the voices of army men outside. Both pairs of eyes blinked around nervously. He carefully lifted Emma into her brother's arms and told them not to move a muscle. He then hurried downstairs to see what was happening.

He slowly opened the door, feigning having just woken up. He was met by the face of one of the townspeople. It was a young woman. She looked up at him pleadingly and asked if he had any food he could spare. The troops had stolen all of hers.

He hurried her inside for a moment, allowing her to warm her frozen feet, and he went and grabbed her several items of food. He also gave her a blanket to wrap around her shoulders, and then let her sit inside and drink warm tea for a while. He was sure the children were worried, but he knew that they were okay up there. Once the woman was healthy enough to return to the outside, she thanked him profusely. He was sure she had said those two words at least a dozen times.

He didn't want to make her leave, but he already had two little refugees upstairs. Having another wouldn't be as easy to hide.

Once she was gone, he hurried back up to his room. He smiled at the two pairs of scared eyes. "It's alright," he said, "It was just a woman asking for food…"

"Did you give her any?" Emma asked, almost looking mad. He nodded and she chewed her lip. If he had to guess, she had probably developed a food related territorial side while being practically starved to death in that camp. Jack probably did too, but he was better at hiding his disdain.

"I'm sure you two are hungry," he whispered, moving toward them. They nodded eagerly and he lifted them both out of bed one at a time. It wasn't as hard as it should have been to lift Jack- he was a bony little thing for his age.

Smiling at the two of them, he helped them down the stairs to the kitchen, where they all tried their best at making pancakes together. This probably wasn't the best way to keep from getting attached to them, but Pitch just couldn't bring himself to stop loving them dearly.


	8. Chapter 8

**My computer has one of those sensor pads… It's broken though… So what's the point of having it if it just breaks like that? It broke about a week after we bought it… Stupid technology… **

**The Body in the Shed – Chapter Eight**

Emma liked pancakes. That much Pitch had found out. Every time he asked if she wanted breakfast, she'd say she wanted pancakes. He found it pretty cute.

Sitting in the living room with the two of them, it became story time again. Pitch didn't own many children's books, but the few he had seemed appropriate for the two of them. (Even for Jack.) Currently they were reading _Alice's Adventures In Wonderland_ together. The siblings enjoyed the pictures and the visuals in the story more than anything, since they could only read so many words, but it was nice all the same.

"How come this story has talking animals?" Emma asked after a while, "Did somebody experiment on them and make them talk?" Obviously she was referencing the experiments from the camp.

Looking at her brother first, Pitch replied, "Well, since it's only a story, anything can happen. As long as you can imagine it. Stories don't have to be real… They can just be for fun."

"I like fun," Jack commented, smiling.

Pitch smiled back at him. "I like fun, too," he said, "It would be strange to meet someone who doesn't like fun." Jack nodded.

"They'd be angry all the time," he said.

"Is that why those men at the camp were so mean? They don't have any fun?" Emma asked. Pitch couldn't help but chuckle at her question. She had experienced so much, yet she still asked the most innocent questions.

Ruffling her hair, he said, "Most of them are like that. Grumpy old men." Jack made a face, puffing out his cheeks, and Emma squished his face, making him blow all the air back out in a raspberry. Pitch smiled at their exchange.

He did wish he could keep them forever. He had grown attached to them in the short amount of time they'd been together. Getting up, leaving them to a tickle fight, Pitch checked out the back window and the front window, seeing if anything was happening. There was still a mammoth amount of snow- he wished he could take the kids out to build a snowman. Had they ever built one before?

Maybe he could drive them out of town to go and spend the day doing something fun. His car wasn't as well protected as the tanks that patrolled the streets, and it wasn't as advanced as newer models the army used, but it was big enough to hold them all and take them. Problem was, he wouldn't be able to hide the two siblings unless they laid flat in the back seat. Getting them out to the car would also be a problem. He hardly ever used it anymore, what with the war and all, so he left it out in front of his house on the far left side. He would have to walk them out, or smuggle them inside of something. Difficult, considering how tall Jack was.

Walking back into the living room, he smiled at seeing the two of them sprawled across the furniture, giggling like fools. It was impossible to tell if anyone won their tickle battle. They were both crying they had been laughing so hard. Squatting down beside Jack, who was on his back across the couch, he brushed his bangs away and asked, "Having fun?" He nodded happily.

"Wanna go have some more fun?" he asked, looking back and forth between them. They each nodded, sitting up to look at him. "Alright, let's go upstairs and get you two some extra layers of clothes to keep you warm." He got to his feet and began walking to the stairs. When they didn't follow, he turned and smiled at them. "Well? Come on!"

"Why do we need warmer clothes?" Emma asked, confused, "We're warm in these, already!"

Smirking at them, he said, "It's a surprise, come on!" The two kids hopped to their feet and hurried after him, and then began scampering up the stairs. He laughed at the way they bounded past him, excited for whatever he had in store. Once in his bedroom, Pitch took one of his jackets from the closet and helped Jack fit into it. He gave him a scarf as well and then a wool knit hat as well as matching blue gloves. He looked like a bundled up little marshmallow. Turning to Emma, Pitch gave her one of his jackets, just a smaller one he hadn't worn in years but never felt like getting rid of. It was too big on her, but she looked precious in it. He then gave her a red wool hat and some red mittens from his childhood. They fit perfectly. He then got himself a long black coat and some black gloves. Now all that was left was figuring out how to get them to the car. He looked at little Emma, swimming in the jacket, and he got an idea.

Hiding them in bundles of clothing. It would be easier with Emma, she was tiny. Jack would be a bit harder.

He started with Emma. He got a large blanket and several random gloves and hats and lifted her into his arms. "Stay here and wait for me," he told Jack, "I'll come back for you next." Jack nodded and waited in the room.

Carrying Emma outside, Pitch felt his heart hammering in his chest. If they were caught, this could mean death for the poor girl. He did his absolute best to remain inconspicuous and keep her hidden. Opening the door to the vehicle, Pitch set her inside, laying her down. He spoke to her in a voice barely below a whisper. "Don't move. Stay lying down, okay? I'll be right back with Jack. Just stay hidden." She nodded her tiny head and remained where she was.

Going back inside, Pitch gathered up another blanket and some other articles. "Can you bundle yourself up into a ball?" he asked the skinny teen, "Or at least make yourself as small as possible?" Jack nodded and as Pitch picked him up, he curled into a fetal position. Pitch had to kick open the door and go place Jack inside the car with his sister. Once more, he told them not to move. He went and locked his front door before going back to the car and starting the noisy engine. He wasn't even sure what model he had, but it certainly wasn't the prettiest sound to listen to.

Hopping inside, he whispered to the kids not to move until he said so, promising the surprise would be worth all the trouble. Driving away from the town was one of the most terrifying experiences of Pitch's life. Every soldier he saw made his heart race. He swore each look from someone was going to be the last. He was incredibly paranoid.

Once finally out of town, being only glanced at by the guards checking for smuggled goods, (being a well-known ex-general had its perks) Pitch said, "Okay you two, you can sit up now. We're out."

Immediately there was giggling. "Where are we goin? What's our surprise?" Emma asked. He could hear her bouncing around in the back.

He refused to actually answer her the whole ride. He kept telling her she'd have to wait and see and at one point he even had Jack joining him in saying she needed to be patient. Finally Pitch reached a small empty snowy hill. He stopped the car and the kids hopped outside with him.

Taking some of the articles of clothing he had brought, Pitch went out to the middle of a flat plane of snow and they began rolling up mounds of snow. Emma helped make the bottom ball of snow as fat as possible. She said she wanted their snowman, which she quickly figured out they were making, to have a big butt. Jack had to help lift up the next sphere for the middle torso area, and then Pitch had to put the head up on top. All in all, it was a tall, fat snowman.

Lifting Emma up, Jack handed her some rocks they found for the eyes. Pitch wrapped a scarf around its neck and then Jack hurried off and grabbed some sticks. He jabbed them into the side and he put a mitten on the end. Emma put a glove on the other stick, and it gave the snowman a very asymmetrical look. His big rocky smile was perfectly messy, too. It looked like kids had made it. And they had fun doing it.

He looked to his right and smiled when he saw Jack jumping down into the snow and rolling down the hill. Emma squealed and ran after him, jumping into a tumble down the hill. He laughed as he watched them run back up and do it again and again. After several times of rolling down the hill together, the two siblings ran over and grabbed Pitch's wrists, pulling him to the hill with them.

"No, no, no, c'mon, no," he tried to argue, but the two smiling faces begging him to join in the fun convinced him to just give up and let them push him. Lying flat on his stomach, Pitch waited for his tumble.

Instead, the kids jumped down, grabbing hold of him, and began rolling with him. He yelped at the first flip, which the two kids laughed at, and they all began laughing as they flopped over and over down the hill. When he got to the bottom, Pitch had ended up losing hold of them, but he quickly jumped up and grabbed them. They both squeaked when he got hold of them and he took their hats off and filled them with snow, shoving them back onto their heads. The squeal of laughter from Emma when the snow hit her head was too cute for words.

They got back at him for that. Jack grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at his forehead, hitting him perfectly. And then Emma tossed another snowball at him and then soon they were both trying to shovel snow down his coat. They pushed him down onto his back and then filled his coat with the freezing powder. So, as they did, for revenge, he grabbed them and yanked them down against him, making them squish into the snow.

After all that fun in the cold, naturally the kids would want something warm. As long as they stayed out of town and away from all places frequented by the army men, they would be fine. Pitch could afford to treat them. He found a little dive that looked like only those who knew about it ever visited.

The three of them sat in a booth and both Emma and Jack ordered themselves hot chocolate. Jack continuously poked at the whipped cream, until it eventually was nothing more than a mushy pile of white fluff. Pitch smiled as he took a tiny bit onto his finger and touched it to his nose. He said he was gonna turn white like the snowman. "You already are white," Pitch replied, "You're one of the palest children I've ever met." Jack stuck his tongue out at him and proceeded to sip his hot chocolate.

Judging by the big smile on his face, Pitch felt it safe to ask, "Good?"

"It's sweet," he replied, sipping more of it. Emma drank some of hers and nodded in agreement.

"You should've got some," she said, "your drink smells funny." He had gotten coffee. He didn't feel like having anything else, but apparently his choice wasn't god enough. Smiling, he grabbed Jack's cup.

"Then maybe I'll have a sip!" he took a tiny sip, faking it as an enormous gulp, from Jack's. The teen squeaked and flailed at him, trying to get his drink back. He laughed and handed it back, watching his unhappy pout as he wiped the edge clean.

When the two got their food, Emma ordered a full stack of pancakes ironically enough; Pitch couldn't hold back the smile on his face at seeing how bright their eyes got. They were so happy. He wished he could go out in the open with them like this all the time, without a care in the world… as… well, a family.


	9. Chapter 9

**There's a giant inflatable Mike Wazowski balloon in my bedroom right now… It's fantastic.**

**The Body in the Shed – Chapter Nine**

Pitch couldn't take his eyes off the kids. He watched Jack as he played with his food and smiled as Emma ate a smiley face into her pancakes. They were both precious- why did he have to let them go?

Pulling them into his arms after their meal, he walked them back out to his car with the plan to head home. Instead, Jack asked if they could build a house out of snow. "You mean an igloo?" Jack nodded excitedly and they all went to work building a nice, square igloo. (They tried to make it rounded, but it fell apart each time they did.) Once it was all put together they crawled inside.

"It's warm in here!" Emma squeaked, obviously surprised by that fact. Pitch smiled at her and helped her to pull her hat down a little further on her head. Jack nestled himself down in the snow that was the floor, quickly followed by his little sister, and laughed as he built himself a snowy pillow.

The odd little family played inside the igloo until one of them (Pitch) accidentally stood up and broke the ceiling open. The entire thing collapsed after that, and two squeals of laughter could be heard as Jack and Emma scrambled out of the snow pile. They both threw snow at him, laughing, and said he broke it.

It was after the snow throwing turned into an all-out snowball fight that Pitch caught sight of Jack yawning. Not Emma, the little kid who needed more sleep, Jack, the older boy who should have had leaps and bounds of energy. Smiling, he stopped and said, "Alright, I think it's time to head back. Someone seems tired." Jack smiled and yawned again.

The drive back was fun. Pitch told the kids to lie back down after ten minutes of driving, and not long after he heard quiet snoring from the back seat. Once again the guards only looked at him and let him pass.

Back at the house, Pitch carried the sleeping kids back inside and straight up to the bedroom. Pulling off their hats, mittens, and extra coats, he tucked them into bed and let them sleep for the night. When morning came he was surprised they were both still sleeping. Apparently he had really tuckered them out. He let them sleep until they felt like waking up; however, he felt it was fair to let them rest. Emma woke up first, but immediately pounced on her brother when he didn't wake up the instant she did.

The three of them went down to the kitchen to get something to eat. Jack groaned and rubbed his chest, where Emma had jumped on him, and asked if Pitch had anything to make it stop hurting. Pitch chuckled softly. "It should stop on its own, but here," he handed the boy a bag of ice wrapped in a thin rag. Jack pressed it to his chest and sat with a sigh.

He gave them their food and quickly noticed Jack was still holding the ice to his chest. "Here…" he whispered, pulling it away, "You might be making it too cold, now… Let's give it time to warm up on its own, okay?" Jack nodded softly and ate his food.

They went out to the sitting area where the fireplace was sitting and waiting to be lit. Emma helped Pitch light the dried logs and then sat and drew pictures in an empty notebook Pitch had. Jack laid down on the couch and rubbed his chest. Frowning, Pitch went over and lifted his shirt to check on it. There was a bruise- no wonder he said it hurt so much.

Looking at the brown eyed girl, Pitch said, "Emma, don't jump on your brother next time, okay? You gave him a bruise…" She said a quiet sorry to Jack, rushing over and kissing his forehead, and Pitch carefully massaged the injured spot on Jack's chest. He iced it more between rubbings in an attempt to ease the pain away. He wasn't entirely surprised that little bit of force had bruised him- being starved in the camp had most likely made him slightly anemic.

He smiled down at the teen and asked him if he wanted something warm to drink. "Hot chocolate?" he replied, smiling right back. Emma jumped up and said she wanted some too. Nodding, Pitch left Jack to tend to himself and prepared some cocoa.

When he came back out, Jack was sitting up, Emma sitting with him, and he had set the ice off on the floor. "Feel better?" he asked. The teen nodded and happily accepted the drink.

"It's better than the restaurant's!" Emma said, smiling, blissfully unaware of the mustache of whipped cream across her face. Jack laughed at her and Pitch gently wiped it off.

They sat by the fire for quite a long time. There wasn't exactly much else to do, considering Pitch was harboring two fugitives, but they didn't seem to mind. They liked reading books with Pitch and relaxing together with food constantly available. Living somewhere boring was nice.


End file.
